


Eyes on the Prize

by fangirlingtodeath513



Series: Writers of Destiel Challenges [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexting, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28827795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlingtodeath513/pseuds/fangirlingtodeath513
Summary: Castiel sends Dean a very NSFW picture while Dean is at work.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Writers of Destiel Challenges [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1369456
Comments: 6
Kudos: 123
Collections: Writers of Destiel Lusty Lexis





	Eyes on the Prize

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Writers of Destiel Lusty Lexis challenge :D The prompt was "I've been thinking about this all day."

It all started with a simple, innocent text. Okay, maybe not  _ innocent _ . Castiel had woken up to a cold, empty bed. He’d been used to having Dean around during quarantine, but now that the world was finally back in order, at least for the most part, Castiel’s constant now was a frigid, too-large bed.

Today, though... today he’d woken up rock-hard, a whisper of Dean’s name on his lips as he was finally dragged from the glorious, pleasure-filled dream into the real world. He rolls over to grab for Dean and that’s when the reality hits him: Dean’s at work and Castiel’s alone. So, rather than taking care of his hard-on himself, he rolls over and feels around the nightstand for his cell phone.

In his opinion, the photo he sends is rather tasteful. He leaves his briefs on and grips his shaft through them, just enough that the outline of his obviously hard cock is visible but no skin is showing. It’s a lot more tasteful than other pictures he’s sent to Dean, at least. 

He doesn’t hear back from Dean, which is odd. He texts again at lunch to wish him a wonderful rest of his day, but his text goes unanswered yet again. It throws him off his rhythm, so he doesn’t even manage to finish the painting he’d been working on for a client. He doesn’t have to ship it for another week, thankfully, so he eventually just gives up and wanders into the kitchen. He ends up making dinner—Dean’s favorite, just in case he’d inadvertently angered or embarrassed Dean with his photo—and becomes so engrossed that he doesn’t even hear the apartment door open. 

Dean’s keys clattering onto the table near the door is what draws his attention. He turns to find his husband hastily removing his jacket and just dropping it on the floor. Castiel opens his mouth to tell him to hang it up but then watches the frantic energy that Dean has as he toes his shoes off and makes for the kitchen, eyes locked on him with a mix of hunger and something else that Castiel can’t put his finger on.

He’s barely able to put down the spatula he’d been using before Dean’s crowding him against the counter and kissing him within an inch of his life. It leaves him breathless, dizzy, and delightedly confused when Dean finally pulls away, though he just moves to kiss his way down Castiel’s neck. He tilts his head without a second thought, threading his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Well hello to you, too,” Castiel murmurs, a ghost of a laugh in his tone. 

Dean scoffs against his neck, leaning back just enough to shoot Castiel a look of incredulity. “Hello? You expect me to say  _ hello _ when I’ve spent the entire day hiding behind my desk, rock  _ fucking _ hard because I knew you were at home getting yourself off and all I could do was stare at my computer screen and think about it?” 

Castiel grins, albeit a little sheepishly, and brushes his fingers through the hair at the back of Dean’s head. “I’d apologize, but I’m not very sorry. I missed you this morning. I figured you’d enjoy a small—“ Dean scoffs at the notion that Castiel is in any way small, to Castiel’s simultaneous joy and embarrassment “—reminder of our lazy days in bed. I apologize if it ruined your day.”

Dean grunts, shuffling away from Castiel. For a moment, Castiel worries his apology has been too effective and ruined the mood, but then Dean shuts off the stove burners and moves the half-cooked food off the heat. 

“Dean, I—“ He doesn’t get to finish his protests. Dean’s lips are back on his and after just a moment, Dean bends and grabs Castiel behind the knees, hauling him into Dean’s arms. Dean tends to be the more submissive one in the bedroom, so the unusual show of strength rips a throaty groan from Castiel. It seems to only spur Dean on as he turns and heads for their bedroom, his lips never once leaving Castiel’s skin.

He’s deposited rather unceremoniously onto their bed, though he can’t really complain. Dean’s disheveled, his obvious erection straining in his dress pants as he stands above Castiel, seemingly drinking in the sight of him. Castiel leans back on his forearms, smirking up at his husband.

“Enjoying the view?”

Dean hums noncommittally, which simply won’t do. Castiel keeps his eyes locked on Dean’s face, slipping his hand down to grip his own erection through his sweatpants.  _ Dean’s sweatpants _ , his brain helpfully supplies, but the action seems to have the effect Castiel was hoping for. Dean’s knees waver and he licks his lips, eyes flickering up to Castiel’s face. There’s a hint of defiance twinkling in his eyes, though the question behind them is still rather obvious.

“Go ahead,” Castiel encourages, a smirk curling his lips. “Show me what you’ve been thinking about all day, my love.” 

Dean shivers at the endearment as he sinks to his knees, which are thankfully protected at least a little by the plush carpet of their bedroom—something they’d argued about for months before Castiel had eventually won. He’s sure Dean’s knees thank him every time they settle into that softness rather than an unforgiving hardwood floor. 

Dean’s fingers are cold when they curl around Castiel’s hips, frozen by the bitter winter temperatures of the northeast. Perhaps he’s just feverish with arousal. Maybe it’s a combination of both. He doesn’t really care. All he can focus on is Dean’s fingers as he tugs Castiel’s sweatpants and briefs off, leaving them bunched around his thighs as he presses his tongue to the ridge on the underside of Castiel’s cock, making him gasp and curl his fingers into the sheets. Dean seems to take pleasure in the response, his cold, broad hands trailing up and down Castiel’s thighs as he licks and teases and sucks his cock, his cartoonishly plump lips easily swallowing Castiel to the root. He could come just like this—has several times, in fact—but that’s not what’s on the agenda for tonight. Dean’s been looking forward to this since Castiel texted him earlier and Castiel won’t deprive his husband of his fantasies. God knows they’ve acted out enough of both of their fantasies. 

“Earth to Castiel,” Dean murmurs against the skin of his hip, pressing a gentle kiss there. Castiel blinks down at him, brushing his fingers through Dean’s hair gently.

“I’m here,” he assures, a soft smile on his lips. He brushes a thumb over the collection of freckles beneath Dean’s left eye, letting out a pleased hum when Dean leans into the touch. “Why don’t you come up here, hm? You deserve a reward for my teasing today,” Castiel murmurs, dipping his thumb into Dean’s mouth. Dean instantly closes his lips around it, teasing the pad with his tongue. “Fuck, Dean.” It’s a whisper more than anything, but Dean’s eyes roll up to look at him and he can see just how pleased his husband is with the response. Smirking, Castiel hauls him up onto the bed and swaps positions, discarding his sweats and briefs as he straddles Dean’s waist. The slide of their erections against each other makes them both gasp, Dean’s hands scrambling for Castiel’s waist. 

“God, dreamed about this all day. About what would’ve happened if I’d been home.”

Castiel smirks as he rolls his hips lazily, fingers tracing Dean’s nipples through the fabric of his dress shirt. “Yeah? And what did you imagine would have happened?”

Dean arches into the touch, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he sucks in a breath. “That you’d roll over and just take me. I’d still be loose from last night so you could work me open before I even opened my eyes.” Dean shivers as Castiel’s blunt nails scrape over his erection through his dress pants, whimpering quietly.

“Keep going,” Castiel encourages, rewarding Dean’s cooperation by unbuttoning his dress shirt and helping his husband out of it. Castiel closes his lips around Dean’s left nipple as Dean begins to speak again.

“O-or maybe you’d leave me like that. Not prepped all the way. Then I’d wake up to your cock in me, the burn of you stretching me open...” He trails off as Castiel bites down on his nipple, grabbing onto his shoulder tightly. “Oh, Cas,  _ fuck _ .”

Castiel smirks, laving his tongue over his nipple gently. “That’s the plan.”

He can’t quite see Dean roll his eyes, but he knows his husband well enough to know that he most certainly does. Dean has his fair share of stupid puns most days, so Castiel has no problem reciprocating. 

“Perhaps we can fulfill that fantasy in the morning,” Castiel murmurs, his fingers slipping down to brush over Dean’s hole. He nearly comes in his underwear when he finds Dean already prepped, his body ready and waiting to swallow Castiel’s cock. “God, Dean, you prepped yourself at work?”

He looks up to find Dean smirking at him as he winds his legs around Castiel’s waist. “I told you, Cas. Been lookin’ forward to this all day.”

Castiel shivers at the image of Dean prepping himself in his office, knowing he could be walked in on at any point, and leans over to grab the lube in their nightstand. He doesn’t waste any time divesting them both of the rest of their clothes, slicking his cock, and sinking into Dean. They both gasp at the feeling. Dean clutches at Castiel’s shoulders and Castiel can’t find the drive within himself to take this slow. Dean’s been waiting for this and honestly? He kind of has, too.

Dean’s legs tighten around his waist as Castiel puts more force behind his thrusts. Their kisses turn more into them just sharing breaths and moans and gasps than actually kissing. He can’t complain about that, though. It only makes it feel all the more intimate.

He can tell the moment Dean’s about to come. His hands slip down to Castiel’s biceps, gripping tightly as he buries his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck. Dean always gets quiet and clingy when he’s close and Castiel fucking  _ loves _ it. Dean comes with his arms wrapped around Castiel’s shoulders, clinging to his husband as if his life depends on it. Castiel isn’t very far behind, capturing Dean’s lips in a warm kiss that makes his heart skip a beat as he comes, cradling his husband in his arms.

He gives himself a moment to catch his breath before carefully shuffling them onto the bed, holding Dean tightly and kissing his forehead. “All day, huh?”

Dean snorts. “Been thinkin’ about that, have you? Yes, all day. That picture was… mmm.”

Castiel grins and leans over to kiss his husband quickly. “I”m glad you liked it.”

“Hm,” Dean answers, resting his head on Castiel’s shoulder. “I think I’d like those burgers I saw on the way in even more.”

Castiel laughs, though he happily obliges with a fond shake of his head. They don’t bother to dress, just throw on their matching robes and head for the kitchen. Their burgers may get a little burnt while Dean satiates his appetite for Castiel once again, but neither of them mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Find **this fic** on [Tumblr](https://fangirlingtodeath513.tumblr.com/post/640624405855223808/eyes-on-the-prize-a-destiel-fanfic-explicit)
> 
> Find **me** on [Tumblr](https://fangirlingtodeath513.tumblr.com/) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/fangirlingtodeath513)  
>   
>  **Please don’t post my works anywhere without my permission.**


End file.
